


the fire in you

by escherzo



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Dragon!Hamid, Handwaved Kobold Biology, Hemipenes, Implied Polykobolds, Other, RQG 173 Spoilers, Rimming, Tail Sex, Tails As Erogenous Zones, or at least he's getting there, with additional minor appearances by Basically Everybody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:40:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26946856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escherzo/pseuds/escherzo
Summary: The growth—no, he can't even think of it on those terms anymore, lying isn't going tohelp--the tail is only a stub of a thing, and it tapers to a thin point maybe three inches from the base of his spine. The skin around the new scales is red and raw, and there's a faint film over it, like a half-shed snakeskin.“Oh dear,” he says out loud. He can't bring himself to touch it.It could have been the storm; it's certainly not impossible for that level of magical energy to generate unexpected effects like this, especially interacting with a physiology like his, and it's possible it took his inherent magic and just—amplified it. It's one thing to know the theory behind it, to understand the interplay of innate and wild environmental magic, and another to look behind himself and goI have a tail now.
Relationships: Hamid Saleh Haroun al-Tahan/Skraak
Comments: 14
Kudos: 51





	the fire in you

**Author's Note:**

> Set immediately post 173; I wanted Hamid back in his own body but having already had the big clarification talk with Skraak and alas, that means writing something that's 100% going to get jossed Tuesday when the actual new episode and not the one in my head goes up. This does mean the first ~3k is 'what happens in 174'. I suspect Alex will not be so kind. 
> 
> This happened a. because I shook ao3 and only two Skraak/Hamid fics fell out, and b. the collective fault of the When in Rome server but especially Sav for being great/terrible influences and enabling this. ♥ I've written two RQG fics total and both of them have involved Hamid getting fucked by someone's tail. I don't know what this says about me.
> 
> General note on consent: Skraak assumes Hamid asking them to touch his tail is a sex thing. Hamid is onboard with the proceedings throughout, but did not realize he was, in fact, propositioning Skraak by kobold standards.

There's no time. Not at first. Hamid has only just registered the dirt on his hands, the jagged edges of his fingernails, the sheer, bubbling joy of being able to have a hug again where he comes up to mid-thigh, of being back in a body he understands, when Zolf sounds the alarm. The voice from above is frantic, high-pitched, _”Mayday!”_ and from there it's go, go go. 

He's barely remembered how his own legs work when he leaps off the edge of the ship side-by-side with Skraak. In that moment, it's Skraak's reactions he's trying to focus on; even half a compliment, a _mm, not bad_ makes him glow with warmth and helps him tamp the rest of his emotions down. Underneath that is the panic. On some level, he's always panicking, a little. His words come out more rambling than he intends, and he wrings his hands and shifts in place like a tiny, compressed ball of energy and power, and he _tries_ to hide it, but it's a part of him as much as the magic or the claws. Right now, the panic is much more concrete, and it's only the joy of flying, of watching Skraak do the same, that keeps him from hyperventilating entirely. 

When he leads the ship down out of the clouds, Skraak isn't with him, and it takes everything in him to not just shut his eyes and pray as he makes it to the ground and watches the ship crash down out of the clouds in all its technicolor. There is an almighty boom as it makes impact, and in this moment, he does shut his eyes, even as the splinters fly around him and the cracking of the trees becomes a roar. They're close to the landing spot, but not quite there; maybe Azu didn't see his lights. Maybe something else went wrong. There is a sound of something hitting the rough bark of the pine trees that is not wood or metal, and he scrunches his eyes shut, trying to breathe deep. Praying that it isn't what he thinks it is. 

“Is, is everyone alright?” he calls out, once the worst of it has passed and the only sounds are the creaking of trees slowly deciding whether or not to fall the rest of the way to the ground and the slow snap-snap-snap of parts of the rest of the ship giving way.

He opens his eyes. The ship isn't in ruins, but it's not likely to fly anytime soon, either; there is a jagged crack through the middle, and the innards of one of the cabins is exposed. Most of the deck is a wreck, covered in branches and debris with a thick tree trunk dividing the sections neatly in two. He can see Zolf, still holding on for dear life to the side of the ship, and Cel, half in and half out of a splintered section but holding up one hand, thumb raised, in a _I'm alright_ motion. Skraak is already clambering down the side of the ship with two other kobolds—Meerk and Sassra, Hamid thinks, although there's not a lot of light in this forest and it's hard to tell at a distance—in tow. He doesn't see Azu. Or any of the others, just yet, but Azu always stands out in a crowd. She can never do anything but, and seeing no trace of the bright pink flash of her armor leaves him gasping for air against sheer panic, his heart in his throat. 

There's a groan from somewhere nearer to him, and he _knows_ that voice. He takes off running. 

Azu is slumped against one of the trees, about twenty feet from the ship, a mark through the snow from where her body skidded as she landed, and something about the angle of her limbs doesn't look right, but she's moving. One of the plates of her armor is partially embedded into the tree, and as Hamid runs to her, he can hear her trying to coax the tree into letting her go, a ragged, plaintive, _come on_. 

“Azu?” Hamid calls, and Azu looks up. Her other tusk is a little chipped now; not quite matching the one that's broken entirely, but they're closer to a pair than they've ever been. She has a gash across her forehead, and she's trying and failing to hide pain on her face, but she smiles as he approaches. He draws a healing potion out of his bag as he folds to the ground beside her and uncorks it, and when he moves to pour it into her mouth she acquiesces and closes her eyes, drinking it down in two long swallows. 

“Thank you,” she says, and her smile is a little less pained. “I will be alright, I think, if I can get myself out of this tree. I'm very stuck. Also I think my leg may be broken.” 

“I, I'll help you,” Hamid says, dropping the empty potion bottle to the ground and twisting his hands together, and she shakes her head. 

“Go and check on the others,” she says, and he sighs and nods. There's not much else he can do for her; he doesn't have the strength to get her armor un-wedged, and he's done what he can for healing. There might be others that need more than that. 

He scans the clearing as best as he can as he runs closer to the ship. Skraak and the other two kobolds are crowded around a third—it looks like Taddyka, and they're alive, but they look badly hurt, and Hamid is halfway to them when he sees Skraak uncork a healing potion of his own and start to administer it. The other kobolds are starting to limp their way to the group, and Hamid lets himself breathe a sigh of relief. All alive, then. 

“Anyone seen Azu? Wilde?” Zolf yells out, and Hamid concentrates long enough to send up a _dancing lights_ to light their way as he runs into the woods. Cel has turned into something large and hulking and mostly unidentifiable to Hamid's eyes and is pulling a partially-limp Barnes from the rubble. He's not in good shape, but it looks like he's breathing, and after him Cel pulls out Carter, significantly more alive and significantly less pleased by being picked up by a creature of unknown description. Barnes' thready, exasperated, “ _that's Cel_ ” makes Hamid laugh a little, a nervous giggle of relief.

“Hamid,” Zolf says, making his way to him across the snow as fast as his legs will carry him. “Have you seen anyone?”

“Azu,” Hamid says, pointing behind him to where Azu is starting to wedge her armor out of the tree. “I haven't seen Wilde. Is everyone alright? Is anyone else missing? I tried to come as fast as I could, but you didn't come down quite where I was expecting, and I--” 

“Hamid. Not the time,” Zolf says, raising a hand when Hamid starts to apologize, but it's his usual brusque and not mean. “It's fine. I won't say everyone's fine, because they're not, but they're alive. Wilde's still missing. The rest will need healing; Barnes and Siggif and one of the kobolds got the worst of it. But we need to find Wilde _now_.” 

“As much as I'm sure you'd love it if you were rid of me, I'm still here,” comes a thready voice from underneath a pile of snow and rubble to the left of them, and they both start. A hand emerges, streaked with blood, and after it, an arm, equally bloodied. Zolf runs over and starts trying to dig him out, throwing branches and snow aside, and he swears violently as Wilde's face emerges, a black eye already starting to form and a little pleased grin on his face, like Zolf worrying after him is the best thing he's heard all day. His nose is _definitely_ not at the same angle as it was this morning. 

“I should--” Zolf cuts himself off and shakes his head. He reaches out and lays a hand on Wilde's shoulder, closing his eyes and letting the magic flow through him as his hand briefly glows with the white light of healing. “Idiot.” 

“Yes, yes,” Wilde says, and Hamid leaves them be, because he can already tell that this is a moment he's intruding on. He has two more healing potions in his bag, but when he comes back to Cel and Barnes, they've already gotten a potion or two into him, and he's staring up at the world bleary-eyed and bloody from creature-Cel's lap with Carter tucked in alongside them. They're all worried, and trying very hard not to be. Kiko and Friedrich are helping Siggif into a sitting position next to a nearby tree, and so Hamid goes to them instead. 

“Does he, does he need healing? I have a couple of potions still, if it's serious,” he says, dropping his bag to the ground and starting to rummage through it. 

“Please,” Siggif croaks, and he stretches out his arm for the potion as Hamid digs it out. His other arm doesn't seem to be moving, and his shoulder's not at the right angle at all; dislocated, most likely, and Azu or Zolf will need to heal him while they set that back in place. If Hamid tries to help them do it while he drinks a potion he's liable to choke. 

“Does anyone else need healing right now,” he hears Zolf call out, and there's a faint, slightly higher than normal, “yes, please!” from the tree Azu is against. There's more to be done; there are bones to set and a ship to assess, but the immediate crisis—the immediate risk of anyone's death, seems to have passed. They're on the ground. They're in one piece, even if the ship isn't. 

Hamid finally lets himself take a proper full breath, and as the adrenaline fades, it's then that he starts to feel it. There's a low, throbbing pain at the base of his spine that anxiety and the sheer overwhelming rush of the emergency to tend to had put out of his mind until just now. He reaches a hand back and rubs at his back and then a little lower when it doesn't quite get to the ache, and it's at that moment that he feels it. There's a bump, nothing huge, but a definitive _bump_ , right at the base of his spine, that was not there when he was last in his body. 

His eyes go very wide. 

*

Half of the ship is intact enough to go inside still, although one of the rooms is caved in, and Hamid takes a deep breath and ducks inside, weaving his way through the rubble to get to one of the intact cabins. He closes the door behind him and just lets himself sink to the ground for a moment, head buzzing. Everyone is alive, he tells himself. Everyone is alive, and they went through the wild magic of the borealis, and _anything_ could have happened there. He's seen Friedrich's arms. Feeling a bump—it could be nothing. It could be something that will go away on its own with time, or--

Once he's sure the door is securely closed behind him, he slips out of his heavy topcoat and the jacket underneath and lets his trousers fall to the floor. There's a mirror in his bag, and somewhere along the way in all of this it's gotten a long, thin crack through the middle of it, but the glass is mostly intact otherwise. Good enough for this. 

Gods, he hopes the door holds. He doesn't want someone walking in at this moment, while everyone else is still trying to regroup and heal and he's in here, panicking and looking at his own arse with a hand mirror, but he needs to _know_. He angles it one way and then the other, trying to crane over his shoulder to get a proper look, and when he finally does, he freezes in place. The growth slopes out from his lower back, about the width of three of his fingers, and it's not the color of his skin. The growth is covered in brassy yellow scales, and around the base of his spine where it connects to the top of his arse, there is a faint cluster of scales to match; as he watches, they seem to grow a little darker, a little more solid. The growth—no, he can't even think of it on those terms anymore, lying isn't going to _help_ \--the tail is only a stub of a thing, and it tapers to a thin point maybe three inches from the base of his spine. The skin around the new scales is red and raw, and there's a faint film over it, like a half-shed snakeskin. 

“Oh, dear,” he says out loud. He can't bring himself to touch it. 

It could have been the aurora borealis; it's certainly not impossible for that level of magical energy to generate unexpected effects like this, especially interacting with a physiology like his, and it's possible it took his inherent magic and just—amplified it. It's one thing to know the theory behind it, to understand the interplay of innate and wild environmental magic, and another to look behind himself and go _I have a tail now_. Gods, is it going to get any _bigger?_ He doesn't know whether he wants it to grow or wants it to go away entirely. He focuses for a moment and lets his hands curl into claws and then holds a claw out against the tail, comparing. The scales are precisely the same color, the same shape. 

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Okay. It's a tail. There is a tail, and it may or may not grow or interact with the local magic further, but it's not life-threatening, and there are still people who need help. _Pull yourself together_ , he tells himself firmly, and puts the mirror down so that he can start getting redressed. Once things are settled—once they've figured out what they're going to do next, he can address it properly. Gods, should he tell anyone about this? What even would there to be done? Should he mention it to Azu? Zolf is likely to have a better sense of it from a medicinal standpoint, what the risks are, if there's something that he should be doing now that he's _growing a tail_ , but he would rather expire on the spot than have to take Zolf away from taking care of his crew to drop his pants. Azu. He'll talk to Azu. She may or may not know what to do, but she might at least have some advice. 

He makes his way back out of the cabin to find the others mostly gathering in a circle in the clearing, with Earhart and Zolf at the center. Zolf nods to him and then turns back to the rest, and makes a motion for Earhart to continue what she was saying. 

“For now we're resting. Get everyone as healed up as you're able. We need an assessment of the damage level of the ship. Is this at all repairable, or are we going on foot from here. Anyone who's able to stand long enough to do it, keep a rotating watch. You all know what kinds of creatures are in the wilds; we don't have the crew to spare fighting them if one of them comes up on us, so if that happens we all need to _hide_. No heroics. Understood?”

There are a few murmurs among the crew, but mostly nods. Cel has reverted back to their standard shape, but they're still helping Carter prop Barnes up, and the kobolds are clustered together around the two most injured, keeping them safe and sheltered with their bodies. Azu is beside Kiko and Friedrich, and as soon as Earhart stops speaking she kneels down beside the crewmates and starts checking over the extent of the injuries. Hamid stands at a loss for a moment and then goes to the kobolds. 

“Is there, Skraak, is there anything I can do? I still have a potion, if it'll help, or if there's anything else--” 

“It's fine,” Skraak says, and then looks back at Taddyka. “Well. Not great. We've had worse. I'll take the potion.” 

Hamid nods and digs it out of his pack, handing it over. It's only a minor healing potion, but most of the kobolds past Skraak don't have much to them. He hopes it's enough. Skraak nods, looks back at the little cluster of injured kobolds draped over each other, and looks back with an expression that seems much wearier. Hamid has learned how to tell, over these past weeks, the little shifts in their expression, even with a face so different from his own. 

“Thanks,” they say, and Hamid wishes he could take the burden of leadership from them at this moment, lift some of that exhaustion from their face. Skraak pauses for a moment, like they're thinking of saying something else, weighs the thought, and finally adds, “If it's not enough we will need something to keep the arm steady. Get strips of cloth. And something more rigid.” 

Hamid nods. The hammocks that aren't hammocks anymore in the ship are made of silk; they can be torn into strips easily enough. He picks his way back through the rubble and makes his way to the last place he remembers them being and concentrates, letting his hands go clawed so that the talons can rip their way through the fabric and make long strips for bandaging. There's some metal rods in Cel's workshop area, although that is in worse shape than some of the rest of the ship, and he gathers up as many as he can carry before hauling the whole bundle back through the jagged edges that now serve as a ship opening back to the kobolds. Cel is starting to assess the outside of the ship as he passes, and they're holding it together, but only just; they nod and put on a smile when they see him. It's going to be a rough couple of days for them; the best thing he can do is just try to keep helping where he can and try not to—how did Skraak put it? To not blow anything up. 

When he makes his way back to the little cluster of kobolds Taddyka is sitting up, looking much more bright-eyed than a moment ago, and there's an empty healing potion bottle discarded just past them, a crack in it from where it impacted the ground. The others look largely fine, past Driaak, and Skraak bustles up to Hamid and takes the fabric out of his arms with a quick, grateful nod before they set to work bandaging up the remaining wounds. There's way more fabric than is really needed for something of a kobold size, and the rest goes unused in a pile on the ground. Zolf can take the rest for the rest of the healing. 

It's impossible to say what time of day it is; even in the clearing, where the tree cover is thinner, there's a darkness cast by the forest around them, and the sky is so dark with clouds that it could be mid-morning or the middle of the night. Friedrich and Kiko are on watch, and Azu and Zolf are still moving amongst the others, patching them up where they can; there's a small, mostly-stifled noise of pain as Wilde grits his way through Zolf setting his nose back into place as he heals him, but otherwise it's quiet. There's a sense of a collective breath being let out. The worst that could happen has happened; they crashed out of the sky after all, and they are all still standing. No one is _happy_ , but there is a comfort to being back on solid ground. Even solid ground in the wilderness. 

Azu sits back against a tree, clearly exhausted and only mostly hiding it, letting her shoulders slump, and Hamid goes to go sit beside her, ignoring the way the cold seeps into his bones as he crouches in the snow, deep enough to come up past his ankles. 

“Everything alright?” he asks, soft, watching the others as they slowly try to regroup. Natun and Draal have left the group of kobolds to join Cel in assessing the ship, and Earhart is watching everyone, a complicated mess of emotions on her face every time she thinks no one is looking. This is a crew she doesn't want to lose. Not again. They came close to it, would have, if the timing had been any worse. 

“Yes, Hamid,” Azu says, and looks over at him with a smile. It's more genuine this time, less pained. She's still leaning to one side, away from the leg that was twisted wrong earlier, but it looks like it's been set back into place. Her armor is horribly scuffed, and there's a plate of it bent out of shape with claw marks in it from where she had to drag it out of the tree, but otherwise, she's in one piece. “Are you alright? You seem--” She hesitates and takes a moment to look at him. She has a way of making you feel so _seen_. Like every one of your worries is plain on your face and she can read them as clearly as if you were speaking them aloud to her. On someone else, it would be disconcerting. On her, it's a comfort, somehow. Like a mother come to hold you tight and soothe away your woes. 

“I'm not, I'm not _hurt_ , not really, I wasn't in the ship when it went down, but. I think the storm had an effect on me? I don't really know how to explain it properly, really, I think something about my innate magic interacted with the aurora in a way I wasn't expecting, and I'm still trying. Still trying to figure that out I guess.” 

“Your arms look alright,” she says, fond, sparing a glance at Friedrich. 

“I have a tail,” Hamid blurts, and Azu blinks. “It's not very big? Not even as big as my hand yet, but it's got scales like my claws do, and um, it's—do you think you could take a look? I don't know if it's going to get any bigger or if it's okay to just—ignore it, or--” 

“Of course,” she says, starting to push herself to her feet. 

“--you don't have to right now, if you're not feeling up to it, I know you were... you were really badly hurt until just now, it's really alright if you don't...” He cuts himself off as Azu stands up and then crouches down a little to offer him a hand. He fits his hand in hers, taking a second to appreciate the comfort of it, of having hands so much smaller than hers, and she leads him towards the ship and the cabin he was in earlier. 

“I want to make sure you're alright,” she says, ducking to avoid a crossbeam that's lower than it used to be. 

She's seen him undressed before, and anyway, there's nothing to be self-conscious about being half-naked around someone who has already seen him at his worst moments, and when she kneels down beside him to get a closer look, he closes his eyes and lets himself be examined. She doesn't touch, maybe seeing the way the skin is red and raw around the newly-formed scales and understanding that it still aches, a little, and when she sighs and the clanking of her armor indicates she's gotten up again, he lets himself open his eyes. 

“It's a tail,” she confirms, and she looks a little—pleased? “I've seen them on other species at this size; it looks like it's growing in fine! It's just a part of growing up.” 

_I'm older than you_ , Hamid resolutely does not say, even though it's true. “Growing up?” he asks instead, his voice going a little cracked at the end. 

She nods. “This is the sort of tail children have,” she says. “I think it will get bigger, but there's nothing wrong with it.” 

Hamid flushes. “T—thank you, Azu,” he says, and starts gathering his clothes back up. So it is really just... his tail, then. He's not sure he wants it to get bigger, or what that's going to mean. God, his _balance_. He's seen the way the kobolds struggled to adjust when they were in bodies without tails. Is he going to be tripping over his own feet as it grows? What is he supposed to do with this?

“I think you should talk to the kobolds,” she says gently, as though she knows what's running through his head. Not for the first time, he wonders if Aphrodite gives Her followers the ability to read minds. 

He should; the idea of going to one of the kobolds about this is—he isn't on those sorts of terms with most of them, and the idea of being half-naked in front of Natuun or Sassra makes him flush with embarrassment, but. He trusts Skraak implicitly. They're on a better footing now, now that he understands what his place is with them. It feels more... mutual now, somehow. He doesn't want to be a burden, if Skraak is still trying to keep the others calm as they nurse their wounds, but if the other kobolds are alright, then, well. It's a possibility.

“I'll think about it?” he offers, chewing on his lower lip. Azu nods and then kneels down again to gently gather him into a hug. 

“Thank you for telling me,” she says, and he lets himself burrow into the warmth of her for a moment. 

*

The day is starting to stretch on into night, or at least, at Hamid's best guess it's drawing towards evening, when Hamid allows himself to go find Skraak again. The other kobolds have dispersed to help Cel finish assessing the ship and start repairing where they can, apart from Driaak, who's bundled up in the pile of discarded bandaging cloth, making themselves a nest, and Skraak is at the edge of the ship, looking in on it all. 

“Skraak,” Hamid begins, suddenly nervous. This is... it's not the strangest thing he's ever asked of anyone, but it's not something he's ever thought he would be asking _Skraak_ , and he swallows hard before continuing. “Could we talk? Privately?”

“Hamid,” Skraak says, nodding to him. “I... suppose,” they continue, after a moment's hesitation, taking another quick look at the kobolds as they clamber over fallen timbers.

“It's nothing bad,” Hamid is quick to try and reassure, but Skraak is following him regardless, and so he leads them back into the depths of the ship. “I just, um, I just wanted to ask for your advice on something, I suppose?” 

Skraak raises an eyebrow, but otherwise acquiesces as he closes the door behind them. 

Hamid takes a deep breath. “So. The storm did something... unusual to me, and I think you're probably the best one to ask about what it means and what I can do? I think it's, it's probably easier to show you, but that probably involves me getting, getting undressed a bit.” 

Skraak's eyebrow goes higher, and they fold their arms. “... Okaay.” 

“I have a tail,” Hamid says, forcing the words out as quickly as he can as he takes off his coats. “I didn't have a tail, and now I do, and Azu took a look at it and she says it's still growing but looks okay--” 

He hesitates a long moment before undoing his trousers. It feels different, doing this in front of Skraak, and when he stops to think rather than just going through the motions, he realizes that his cheeks are starting to heat. It hits him all at once that they're alone in this room. 

“So I wanted to talk to you because you all have one,” he continues, trying to power through, “and I don't know if it hurts as it gets bigger or if it's going to mess up my balance, or what to do about any of that. Does it look, does it look normal to you? It's a little scalier than yours, but.” He pushes his trousers down to his knees and gestures at it, and Skraak steps closer. 

“It looks like a tail,” Skraak says, but their voice sounds a little deeper, a little more strained. They start to reach out and then stop halfway, and Hamid twists enough to look at them properly.

“You can touch if you want, it's okay,” he says, and Skraak sucks in a quick breath. Their eyes have gone very wide and very dark. They reach out again, tentative, and then stroke over the base of Hamid's tail, where skin gives way to scale, and the feeling is so sudden and electrifying, a needle-sharp pleasure lancing through him and making his stomach twist up with arousal, that he finds himself moaning aloud, the noise so loud in this enclosed little cabin. 

“Okay?” Skraak asks, and Hamid has no idea why it feels like _this_ , but he nods. Skraak strokes down the length of his tail, one clawed finger on either side, and even though Skraak's skin is cooler than a halfling's would be, the touch feels burning hot, and Hamid is red to the tips of his ears, biting his lip to hold in a noise. It feels so good. All he can think is _more_ , and he squeezes his eyes shut. Skraak is just—just helping him. Just checking if his tail is normal. He's not supposed to be getting off on this. He can feel himself getting hard, and he wishes he wasn't standing half-naked in the room, because if Skraak moves to face him, there's no way he's going to be able to hide it. All Skraak is doing is touching his _tail_. 

“Is it good?” Skraak asks, short and blunt, but there's heat behind it, and they press closer, crowding Hamid in with a hand worked between the two of them. They stroke over the base of Hamid's tail again, and Hamid can't help but push back into it, into the hard pressure, trying to chase the feeling. He tries bite his lip harder, but he can't hold back another noise, half-muffled and whimpering. He wants to reach out, wants to touch Skraak; he's thought about Skraak like this before, too ashamed to acknowledge it to himself properly, but the wanting is sudden and sharp and all of a sudden all of this feels very real. 

“There?” Skraak asks, stroking over the spot at the very center again, and all Hamid can do is nod. Abruptly he realizes that it's not just him lost in this; Skraak's breathing is harsher, and under their breath, they murmur a, “that's it,” as he pushes back into their fingers again. He could come like this, he realizes all at once. Just from having his tail played with. He wants to watch Skraak, wants to touch them in return, learn what his hands look like against the bright red of their scales, wants to see the sharp, stoic face crumble into hazy pleasure. 

“Bed?” Hamid manages, praying he's not misreading this, and Skraak makes an affirming little noise and pulls back before grabbing him by the wrist so hard they nearly leave a mark and _tugging_ them onto the bed.

Hamid stumbles onto it, weak-kneed, and Skraak hops up after. For a moment, Hamid is facing them, and he wants to try, wants—He leans in and kisses them on their snout, and they make an amused, exasperated little noise and direct Hamid's head lower. He licks at their neck, experimental, and they huff out a sharp breath, body going tense against Hamid's, arching their neck as Hamid kisses it, wet and openmouthed, tongue stroking over the skin as he lets his teeth dig in a little. Skraak makes a funny, raspy little sound that Hamid thinks might be a moan. They mirror him, leaning in with sharp teeth fit so carefully against the side of his neck, and the razor-sharp points catch slightly at his skin as they trail them downwards, long forked tongue flicking out to taste him, and he squirms, hands tightening on their sides. He's not sure where to touch, and so he runs his hand down their chest, fingers catching on scales, and they huff out a little breath and catch his hands to redirect him to the base of the soft underbelly, where the ridged skin smooths out a little and goes lighter. There's a line on their skin, a little fold, and something underneath that feels more solid that's starting to peek out, and he rubs his fingers across it, trying to coax it out, to _see_.

“Where on you,” Skraak says, letting their teeth catch a little harder on the skin at the crook of his neck, and he didn't think he liked pain like this, but the fine white lines of it make him shiver in place. He directs their claws to his nipples, and they make a curious noise and stroke over one with a finger, watching the way it makes his eyebrows scrunch up, listening for the harsh breath he lets out. They've got an engineer's mind; of course they want to take him apart and see how he works, and he's not surprised at all when they pull away from his neck and curl that long, forked tongue around the stiff peak of his nipple a moment later. He cries out, letting go of them to try and muffle the noise with his hand—the door is closed, but people could _hear_. The other kobolds could come looking for Skraak, and find them like this. 

He's not expecting the lance of heat that goes through him at the thought. 

“Is your, is your tail like that too?” Hamid asks, taking a deep breath to try and get himself under control before reaching out. He gets his answer quickly enough; he tries to find the spot Skraak was stroking on his, and Skraak makes another harsh noise, arching up into it. Their hips press forward against his, and he looks down at the two of them to find that that the little pouch of skin on their underbelly has drawn back and they have... 

“Oh,” Hamid says, fascinated and trying not to feel too greedy as he strokes Skraak's tail again. He wasn't expecting a humanoid cock, but he hadn't thought to expect _two_ of them. One on top of the other, both a little smaller than his, but not by much. 

Somewhere, far in the back of his mind, he thinks of his ancestor again, thinks of what she and Apophis must have done, and is begrudgingly impressed. 

“Focus,” Skraak says, but there's amusement to their voice. He tries to concentrate on stroking their tail, fitting his hand around it with his thumb stroking over the base, and they shift forward until the two of them are close enough that their cocks brush against his own. He has to close his eyes, then; theirs is so much wetter than his, fluid beading from both tips, and it makes their movements go slick and easy. 

“The thing about tails,” Skraak continues after a moment, although their breath has gone harsh and shaky, “is that they are useful for many things when you have control. Balance. Hanging off things, sometimes. And when they're fully grown...” They trail off. Hamid hadn't really thought about, until this moment, how long their tail is proportionate to their body, but their tail curls around the two of them and then around Hamid's own, the tip tightening around his, and he moans, startled. 

Skraak is all teeth when they grin, and there's a little smugness to it. 

“Can you--” Hamid thinks about the way their tail is ridged, how it's scaled but not _sharp_ , and wonders what else they could do with it with that level of control. He's not sure how to ask for what he wants, but he pushes his arse back into the touch, and their tail tightens around his again, and he thinks they might get the idea. 

“Roll over,” they say, and he whimpers at the loss as their tail uncurls from his. 

He rolls over, propping himself on his elbows with his hips up, and he hears shifting in the bedsheets behind him, the dip of their movement, and then, sudden and sharp as a shock, they spread him open, claws digging into the meat of his arse a little, and lick over his hole with that long, forked tongue. He presses his face into the sheets and tries to bite at them to muffle the sound that rips out of him. They huff in a little breath and dive back in, their tongue flicking back and forth and then curling into him, slow and steady, twisting it as they do, and all he can do is bite the sheets harder and push back, rocking his hips back against their snout. It feels excruciatingly good, like he's burning up with it, the fire in his veins making his whole body hazy. He can barely _think_. He reaches down to get a hand on himself, trying to relieve the pressure, so close his eyes are starting to bead with tears, and they take one hand off his arse and grip his wrist tight. 

“Not yet,” they say, claws digging in just enough to be the suggestion of a threat, and he nods as best as he can. 

“Please,” he tries. He wants them to touch his tail again. He wants them to put their tail in him, or one of their cocks, or both of them at once, even though he doesn't know how he would make it fit. His whole body is a mess of need and instinct, and his arms are shaking. He pushes his hips up higher, trying to urge them on, and they give him one final lick before pulling away. 

Something else teases at his hole, then, something much thicker and ridged, and he lets himself look over his shoulder. They have moved to fold over him, their tail curling around to their front, and he wishes he could watch as the tip of it sinks slowly inside him, wishes he could see himself start to spread open around it, but it's enough to watch the way their face goes tight, their eyes squeezing shut. He's not new to being fucked, but it's never been like this. He can feel every ridge of their tail as they sink deeper inside him, and then they reach out and curl their hand around his tail with the hand they're not using to brace themselves and he just gives in entirely. Lets himself go loose and pliant and accepts them into him, deeper than he thought he could take. Their cocks brush against him as they rock forward, working their tail in and out in a smooth glide, slicked by their spit, and he moans, squirming around its length, trying to push up into their hand around his tail. 

He loses track of time entirely. It feels like it goes on forever, an endlessly spiraling heat that goes all through him, and he can't hold back the little whimpering noises that spill out of his mouth with every movement. His eyes are tearing up now, so lost in it that he can't hold them back anymore, kept on the edge for so long, and when they twist their hand around his tail and stroke hard over the spot in the center it peaks all at once and he comes in a dizzying rush, so hard it makes his ears ring. Skraak slides their tail out of him in one smooth glide and he squirms, oversensitive, still panting. They settle back onto their haunches, staring at him with a hunger in their eyes that makes his stomach drop. They're still hard, and he tries to get his limbs to work long enough to turn around and curl over them to fit the top one into his mouth. 

Their claws slide into his hair and hold on tight, and the little needlepoints of pain as they dig in a little makes a shock of exhausted pleasure go through him. The bottom of the two slides slick against the underside of his chin, and they press up into his mouth, working deep in one agonizingly slow slide, before shuddering all over and coming so deep in his mouth he can barely taste it, their other cock making a mess of his chin and neck as it twitches. 

Hamid pulls back, panting, and savors the mess of himself for a moment before whispering a quiet _prestidigitation_ to clean himself off. Skraak is looking _deeply_ pleased with themselves, and Hamid can't help but smile back. 

“So,” Hamid begins after a moment, though the silence is a comfortable one. “So with the tail thing, how do I get control of it?”

“It takes practice,” Skraak says, commandeering the top sheet to clean themselves off a little. “It needs to finish growing first. Your balance will adjust naturally as it grows.” They pause. “I think.”

“You think?” Hamid blinks. 

“We were born with a tail,” Skraak points out. 

“Ah. Right, that makes sense! I didn't think—I didn't know they were so sensitive,” Hamid says, blushing a little. 

Skraak pauses for a moment, looking him carefully up and down. “Did you not know what it meant when you asked me to touch your tail.”

“... _Oh_ ,” Hamid says, realizing all at once, his brain going back and reworking the puzzle pieces of the way Skraak reacted when he made the request. “Oh. I didn't, but I'm—I'm very okay with how it turned out, I promise, you don't need to be worried about that or anything.”

“Good,” Skraak says finally. “If you need to. Practice control later. We can help with that.” 

“Thank you, Skraak,” Hamid says, voice going a little wavery, and chooses not to unpack the _we_ just yet. It could be just Skraak referring to themselves as a unit with the other kobolds in a general way; they do that sometimes. It could also be... not that. He'll save that potential additional cultural misunderstanding for later. 

*

On the way out of the ship, they pass Draal and Meerk, huddling together with Cel in a hallway poring over a sheet of half-scribbled calculations. Cel is cross-legged on the floor, their hair standing more on end than usual and their goggles askew, and they don't look up as Hamid passes, but Draal and Meerk both do, sniffing the air and then looking wide-eyed at Hamid. He flushes and tries to hurry past, and Skraak just grins at them, all teeth. 

They've got calculations to figure out. A ship to repair, or to leave behind as they set out on foot. Everyone needs to rest and heal. Hamid tries to focus on those things, and not on the look that passes between Skraak and the other kobolds, and is concentrating so hard on not thinking about it that he nearly trips over a piece of debris at the entrance. He catches himself at the last moment, biting his lip so he doesn't yelp, and Skraak just shakes their head, still smiling a little as they make their way to where Driaak is all bundled up. At some point, they've acquired Cel's winter coat, and only their head and the mess of bandages that has turned into half a nest around them is visible. Skraak kneels down beside Driaak and waves Hamid off, and Hamid nods. He's not their leader. He can let Skraak take this. 

He goes to rejoin Azu instead. She's half-asleep against one of the trees, but she cracks open an eye and smiles warmly at him as he cuddles up by her side. They're going to all need to stay close to stay warm tonight. 

“Did it help?” Azu asks, and she doesn't specify what she's referring to. 

“... Yes, I think so,” Hamid says. He pulls his coat closer around himself and she puts her arm around him, tucking him in against herself. 

He tries very hard to not think about the way his tail is still throbbing, a little.


End file.
